


Day Two: Formal Wear; to dance with the waves

by Wolfepup



Series: Zouxie Week 2020 [2]
Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)
Genre: F/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Zouxie Week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:46:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27361450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfepup/pseuds/Wolfepup
Summary: Continuing my "Zouxie week at Kalaloch", where the only music is the waves, we dance.
Relationships: Archie/OC, Hisirdoux "Douxie" Casperan/Zoe
Series: Zouxie Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994794
Comments: 8
Kudos: 4





	Day Two: Formal Wear; to dance with the waves

“Ready?” Archie sat in front of the small RV kitchen, his fur groomed to a glossy shine, wearing a red “Service Animal” vest adorned with a black bowtie.

Douxie looked at him, holding open the book he was reading. “Ready?...Dare I ask for what?”

Archie sauntered over, and hopped up on the couch. “You have a date with the lovely Miss Zoe at the Lodge, remember?”

“Oh…Oh! Fuzzbuckets!”

“Fuzzbuckets is right,” Zoe glided towards him. She wore a simple black dress, her hair styled in gentle waves. The toes of combat boots peeked out from under the hem. A thin choker wrapped around her neck. She pulled a wide soft grey scarf from a drawer. It was embroidered with faint Native designs of whales and salmon. She looked stunning.

Douxie scrambled up; he was grateful that Zoe had laid his outfit out on the bed. He was hopeless anytime fashion was called for. A simple grey button down shirt, fitted black pants, and a jacket. He changed quickly. The shirt was silk, and cool on his skin.

Zoe held the door open for them. The air outside was cool and crisp, a salty breeze tinged with campfire smoke whispered through the trees. Douxie held out his arm. Zoe laced her arm through his, and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Ahem,” Archie leaned on Douxie’s leg. He had a length of leash in his mouth. Douxie bent down to take it from him. The dragon stuck his tongue out, “Must keep up appearances, no? I am not about to let you two wander off alone without supervision.” He held his head high, haughty as only a cat could do. After a few centuries of practice, he had it down to an art.

The walk to the lodge was peaceful, barring the short walk along the highway. This late in the day, they only had to contend with one logging vehicle ruffling their hair and mussing Zoe’s carefully styled locks. She scowled as it passed.

The lodge was homey, all dark wood and large windows overlooking a small canyon carved by a stream, barely visible below that was festooned with driftwood. Beyond the canyon, the world opened up to the ocean, and the reflective expanse of low tide. Dark rocks peeked out of the grey sands, shiny from the spray.

The host glanced once at Archie, raising an eyebrow at the service animal vest. Archie promptly sat on Douxie’s foot, purring. The host smiled. “This way.” Douxie smiled inwardly. _Way to make yourself look like a comfort animal, Archie._

This was by far not the fanciest restaurant they had eaten at, there were no tablecloths and the edges of the tables had signs of wear. But these were also not their fanciest outfits, and they matched the clientele just fine. The customers, murmuring softly at other tables, or staring into each other eyes, dressed in everything from business casual to “I was roasting marshmallows a few minutes ago”. It was relaxed, unpretentious, and refreshing. Archie hopped up onto the seat next to Douxie, curling up with his rump pushed against Douxie’s leg to keep up appearances. A few of the customers smiled at the dragon turned cat, and one even complimented him on his bow tie.

The food—while not at the level of some of the fanciest places they had eaten—was still excellent. It was simple, local fare, and as far as the wizards were concerned, that was the best kind. When the waiter left to box up their leftovers, Archie whispered, “You had better to have saved some of that salmon for me.”

Douxie laughed, “Of course.” He reached across the table, clasping Zoe’s hands. They stared out at the trees, waving in the winds as the sun started to sink in the sky.

After dessert (an amazing huckleberry cobbler that Douxie had ordered more of so he could have one for breakfast), they headed to the beach. The wind had calmed, the waves crashing lazily on the shore, revealing bits of colorful, ocean-smooth rocks. When they were alone, Archie transformed into a dragon and flew their leftovers back to the RV.

They doffed their shoes, the top crust of the sand barely warm from the sun. Zoe shivered, and Douxie wrapped his arms around her, weaving a small enchantment to warm the air around them. Scores of tiny shorebirds raced the waves, dipping their heads into the water as it receded.

The waves had a music of their own, and he started to sway in time with it. Zoe joined him, her head on his chest. The sun’s golden light shone in her hair, picking out bits of copper in the sea of pink. They danced like that until the sun had sunk beneath the horizon, the wind becoming cold and cruel.

Archie bounded and pounded on sand fleas while Douxie and Zoe were lost in their own little world.

“Time to go back to camp,” Douxie murmured in her hair. The enchantment was fading, bits of cold wind nipped at his neck.

She hummed in agreement. “I do have cold feet to put on you backside.”

He pulled away, “On no you don’t!”

Zoe laughed, “Oh yes I will!”

The race to the RV was longer than expected—the stairs that accessed the beach passed by the old gazebo, the lodge, and they still had to navigate the trail to their site in the dark. Douxie called a light to his hand, an unofficial truce in the dark. Zoe had one arm laced into his.

Archie had flown ahead in the cover of darkness, lighting their campfire. He had pulled out Douxie’s hoody, and offered it to Zoe when they arrived.

“Why, thank you, Archie! I see chivalry is not dead, huh?” She looked over at Douxie, smiling.

Douxie rolled his eyes. “I see how this is going.” He could not hide the smirk as he entered the RV, returning in a heavier jacket, two thin metal sticks in one hand, a bag of marshmallows in the other.

“What is that?” A bit of moonlight, a faded ray in the smoke of the fire, shone on the far side of the campfire. The bit of moonlight grew brighter. A bobcat, small and pale, with delicate, intelligent blue eyes looked up at them. Archie stammered, and held a paw out to Douxie. “Marshmallow, please!” He swallowed.

Douxie complied, confused. Archie slowly offered the marshmallow to it.

“A marshmallow? Really?” She—the voice was feminine—sat on her haunches.

“Uh…uh..”

Zoe and Douxie stared at each other. “Who is this lovely creature, Archie?”

“I am Foam,” she walked closer, bowing minutely, the little bobbed tail flicked a couple of times.

Zoe knelt down, bowing slightly, “It is an honor to meet you, Foam. I am Zoe, and this dufus is Douxie.”

She inclined her head.

“Douxie, the salmon!” Archie stammered, pawing at the RV door. Douxie smiled, and soon placed the take-out container in front of his familiar.

Archie opened it, offering the entirety of its contents to Foam. This was serious, indeed.

Foam laughed, a musical chiming sound, and ate the previously offered marshmallow. She spun on one leg, bumping her hip against Archie’s. The black cat stammered, his mouth opening and closing.

Douxie laughed, enjoying for once not being teased about his relationship with Zoe. He patted Archie’s head. The dragon sputtered, batting the hand away. Foam laughed as well, her eyes alight with mirth. “Foam, would you like campchair? I think there is another one in the RV.”

“No, thank you,” she nodded to Archie. “At least your familiar is polite, hmm?”

“Uhm…uh, hehee?” He pawed at the bow tie, rubbing the back of his neck in an imitation of Douxie.

Douxie sat in his chair, spearing a marshmallow while Zoe went into the RV to change into “something not a dress”. “So, Archie, care to regale us with how you met this lovely lady?”

Archie sat up straighter. “I was out patrolling last night, and she found me.”

“Pounced on you, more like!” Foam hopped up, in her bobcat form she was far larger than Archie, with feet the size of his head. She smiled, all teeth and joy. “It has been so very long since another dragon was here,” she shrugged, a feline ripple of brindled fur, “I couldn’t help myself.” She leaned closer to Douxie, Zoe settling into the chair next to him and stealing his marshmallow. “He’s so _cute_!”

The wizards laughed, and soon Archie joined in, Foam leaning against his side.

While they roasted marshmallows, Foam regaled them with tales of living on the coast, with offering advice to shamans, medicine men (and women!), wizards and witches, but she had never seen another dragon. Her family hailed from the west coast of Canada, and she had come south to the wild lands of the Quinault Peoples, to learn their ways and magics. But magic had become harder to find, until she had pounced on one shiny black dragon who also favored a cat form.

The fire died down to glowing embers, still providing some warmth. Douxie and Zoe stood, wrapped in each other’s arms, and continued their wave-song dance. Foam joined the song, her singing throaty and deep. More of a rhythmic humming that harmonized with the waves and the wind softly blowing in the trees.

Zoe did indeed put her cold feet on Douxie’s backside that night.

**Author's Note:**

> That cobbler...OMG. So worth it. I will be posting the rest of the Zouxie Week, they may or may not be in time, but, meh. I work full time, and I got a killer commute, and work is a grind (like...really. I'm grinding tires this week for an experiment, even with the proper PPE, that stuff stinks).
> 
> And...dude. Foam was a surprise. She's playful, light. And she flustered Archie. And...where are all of the dragons?
> 
> Fun fact, when I was five I skinny dipped in that stream! WHOOHOO Nekked Pasty White Baby BUTT!!


End file.
